


Time to Die

by Rabentochter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, :D, Anti Team Cap, As long as you are Tony or Loki, BAMF Tony Stark, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Civil War Team Iron Man, Courting Rituals, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Falling In Love, Fix-It of Sorts, Flirting, Happy Ending, Hurt Tony Stark, Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, Murder Kink, Not Team Cap-friendly, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rough Sex, Salt, Salty Team Iron Man, Team Salty, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Warning: Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: When Loki starts taking out Tony's ex-teammates as a courting gift to him, Tony can't but be oddly -fascinated.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 57
Kudos: 705





	Time to Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuietCanadian9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietCanadian9/gifts).



> Quiet prompted this one? two? weeks ago and I felt a desire to write this. Hope this is close to what you wanted 👀

**1.**

The suit unfolded quickly as Tony’s feet hit the ground, melting away to leave him in his _other_ suit. He put on his sunglasses as the light of the sun hit him with full power in the face. Was there anything better than to fly to Egypt?

 _Yes._ Not being here because the UN had been extremely adamant in the middle of the night that it _was urgent_ for Tony to fly over _right now_.

“What’s the matter?”

“There’s a package for you.” A UN-delegate shook his hand. “Specifically addressed to you.” There was a flicker of disgust on the woman’s face. “We tried to scan it. But –“ she raised an eyebrow. “We can’t. The material of the package is a _common carton_ , Mr Stark.”

“Normal carton and you can’t scan it?”

“Neither open it.” She nodded. “We thought you might be interested in that case. See for yourself what your secret admirer left you.”

“Can’t say I’m _not_ interested now, can I?” Tony winked at the other. “How long have you been waiting until you called me?”

“About ten minutes.” At his disbelieving stare, she added, “The UN does not _always_ work slowly, Mr Stark, despite what some people might think about us.”

He raised his hands with a chuckle. “Time to unwrap the Trojan horse then.”

“Please don’t be Helen.”

“I don’t know, Helen sounds like an amazing job description. Young, beautiful, and people kill for you.”

“That’s quite the opposite of what I would want to have.”

“What do you want then?”

She smiled at him. “Hot chocolate and a hot bottle, that sounds amazing in my ears.” They stopped in front of a metallic door which opened automatically for them. “We’re here.”

The package was huge. Tony nodded impressed as he took in the size. It was about 5’8” in length which was unusual enough but – yeah. There was a giant green ribbon wrapped around it, a small card pinned to it with his name on it in elegantly cursive writing.

“And you tell me you can’t open a ribbon?”

“The card scans fingerprints.”

“Intriguing.” Tony tapped on his watch, gave FRIDAY the orders to do _her_ best and scan the package if possible. He waited patiently with the amused delegate at his side. “Don’t think I can scan it?”

“I doubt it.” She smirked at him. “This is not a James Bond movie, Mr Stark. A pocket watch won’t save the world.”

“Let’s see about that.”

 _“No life signal detected.”_ FRIDAY sent him the result a few minutes later. “ _The wrapping appears to be a normal carton on the outside-“_

“Which means there’s something inside.” Tony hummed. “Well, if it explodes the UN will cover my funeral expenses, right?”

“I’m sure Ms Potts and the UN will come to an agreement.”

“That’s nice to hear.” Tony nodded. “Here comes Johnny.” He pressed his thumb to the card and really, the card demanded to be looked at later more closely. Tony suspected a small technological miracle there.

The ribbon fell away in a soft _swish_ , the carton unfolding nicely and –

“A casket?” Tony turned around to the delegate. “Is –“ he stopped when he took her disturbed expression which she quickly tried to hide behind a composed mask. “No need to stop now.” Almost nervously he stepped up to the casket and lifted the surprisingly light lid.

“Well, hello Barton.” Tony looked down at the body of his former teammate with surprise. The archer looked peaceful in his deep sleep, the face having been cleared of blood but the throat was butchered. It didn’t seem as if Barton had gotten a quick and nice death. “Someone better inform Mrs Barton,” he called over his shoulder, “her former husband has been found.”

Tony didn’t feel any remorse when he looked at the corpse. The Avengers had split ways about half a year ago and while it might not be _long enough_ for some people to “grieve”, for Tony it had been more than enough time. Clint had gotten himself involved when he _could have been happy_ , out there on his farm with his family, but no –

There was a letter crammed into Barton’s fist. Tony pulled at the paper. It came strangely easy free from the stiff grip. Not as curious as the fingerprint card was, so yeah.

“Mr Stark, are you all right?”

A voice in the back of his mind that sounded surprisingly a lot like Pepper told him to tread carefully – even when didn’t care about Barton’s death that much –

It wouldn’t do any good when people thought him as an even bigger insensitive asshole than he already was. Not, when it seemed as if the majority was on his side and supported him. That was _nice._

“I didn’t expect this.” He shook his head and was grateful for not having taken off his sunglasses earlier. “Yep. I’ll –“

“Do you have any idea why Mr Barton’s body was sent _specifically_ to you?”

He looked at her, her open face that screamed at him he could trust her. He didn’t _want to_. “No. Maybe whoever it was wanted to send me a message.” His mouth twitched. “Not to go rogue otherwise-“ he left the rest of the sentence open and was amused to see the delegate to fight a chuckle.

Gallows humour was not to be underestimated. _Never._

He only opened the letter in the safety of his home, far away from noisy cameras and even more curious employees who wanted the newest shit on Tony Stark.

> _I hope the Hawk is to your liking. As sorry as I am that he could not be delivered alive, but I figured someone would try to save him were he heard choking inside of the casket._
> 
> _Loki._

“Now, who would have thought.” Tony tilted his head thoughtfully. “Loki is back.”

A strange feeling filled him as the realisation hit home that Loki culled Barton specifically for him. And he hadn’t asked for it – never even mentioned anywhere that a part of him wished to see the Rogues dead. After Rogers shoved his shield into Tony’s chest, and _then_ dared to send a letter where –

He balled his hands into fists. Barton was dead.

Someone would have to talk to Laura Cardellini. Make sure she had enough money to support her kids and all that.

He would focus on Loki if the supposedly dead bastard would appear again. Or let someone else appear. Tony chuckled.

**2.**

If anything, then Loki was efficient. It had barely been three days since Barton’s death – enough time to get him to the States, have Laura informed, a funeral organised and Tony’s phone was already ringing.

“ _Stark, I can’t find Sam –“_

“Natasha?” He asked in surprise.

“ _Sam is gone, as is Barton. Do you-“_

“Clint is dead.”

The silence that followed was heavy, a punch to the gut. Just, not his gut, this time.

“ _I see. Thank you.”_

“He’s been buried on the farm. Contact Laura if you want to pay him a visit.”

 _“Yes._ ” The click sounded final, Natasha’s voice a distant echo and somewhere, Tony felt for her. Even with their ways parted – for the better – he knew how it felt to hear that your family had died. _Family you chose,_ not the one you’d been given by birth.

“ _Boss, there’s a package for you.”_

“Let me guess,” Tony said, straightening his tie, “it’s a huge package.”

_“What else would it be?”_ FRIDAY sounded amused. “ _It has a green ribbon, Boss.”_

Tony found his step turning quicker, his heart pounding in his ears as he rushed the stairs down. There was indeed, a huge package in the middle of the entry. The green ribbon was placed perfectly atop, centred, almost _symmetrical_. But not quite. The small act of rebellion against organisation made Tony smile, thin and fleetingly before he read the card attached.

> _We two alone, will sing like birds. Though it seems as if the cage is already occupied._

“By a falcon?” Tony asked, just in time before the ribbon fell away.

“ _A stuffed one.”_

He nodded in agreement, moving the blood-spattered wings away just enough to see Sam’s face. A blindfold had been placed over his eyes, blood dried on his cheeks, his mouth open as if he stopped to breathe in the middle of a scream.

“Efficient,” Tony declared as he let the wing fall over Sam’s face again. He looked like a man, hiding under his wings. Brutality hidden by a technological feat; Tony’s aesthetic senses tingling in delight. He fucking hadn’t known _Sam Wilson._ He’d always been one of _Steve’s_ , his loyal dog and it made Tony _sad_ , that someone who used to work as a counsellor and a soldier, forgot to use his own _brain_. It didn’t make sense but –

Done was done.

“FRIDAY, inform the UN that another one of the Rogues has been attained and killed.” He loosened his tie. “And let’s figure out how we can send a Loki a message. After all, he does the dirty work here.”

_“On it, Boss.”_

When Tony walked back into his workshop, an unread E-mail popped up on a screen. A pdf of _King Lear_ was attached. There was no signature but [_horns@hornyman.com_](mailto:horns@hornyman.com) was not difficult to figure out.

**3.**

Tony had gone to bed earlier tonight; his head was full of schematics that didn’t have a form anymore. Ross yelling on his voicemail, Laura sending her condolences for his lost mind and – yeah. Pepper was still not answering and ignoring him, not, that it _stung_ , no. He had his murderous criminal now who hunted _his criminals_ and made him read King Lear to understand the reference. Perhaps his priorities weren’t in order anymore.

Then he woke up as something heavy hit the floor. It was more effective than any alarm sound ever before, not even the loud trumpets FRIDAY used once had been that efficient.

Loki stood at the foot of his bed, blood splattered all over him and he washed his face clean with the back of his hand. “The witch caused trouble; I apologise for the delay.”

“Did we have a date?” Tony sat up, the sheet falling from his body in a soft whisper.

Loki’s smile was oddly gentle, only a hint of teeth to it. “I set one up in the Witch’s calendar for today. She dared not to show her face so I took it upon myself to deliver her.”

“That’s –“

“Benevolent of me?” Loki threw him a wink before he bent down, standing straight not a second later again. “You aren’t calling for help.”

“Why would I? Are you planning on murdering me?” He stifled a yawn. “Where’s my ribbon?”

“Do you want one?”

 _“Yes.”_ Tony glared at the Trickster. “My ribbon.”

Loki’s mouth twitched before he pulled a giant green ribbon from the air and gave it to Tony. He cuddled it close to his chest, one eye on Loki as he did so.

“Don’t you want to see your gift?” Loki’s voice was velvet in the darkness.

“I can smell it,” Tony mumbled. “Did you try to grill her?”

“Not quite.” The chuckle chased goosebumps all over Tony. “I extracted the magic from her. That’s the _bad_ smell.”

“Mhm.” Tony nodded as his eyes fell shut. “Thanks, I guess?”

“A pleasure.”

And Tony believed it. There was too much glee and a dark promise of _so much more_ , he smiled and pressed his face into the ribbon. He thought it smelled faintly of Loki.

A hint of blood hung in the air, dark and wonderfully sweet at the same time.

**4.**

It had only been a matter of time until Tony had to face himself and _whatever_ it was that Loki was doing. No, that would be offensive to his genius. He knew what Loki was doing. Killing the Rogues – _for him._ There was blood on his hands, and death on Tony’s conscience. Only, that said conscience couldn’t give less of a fuck because –

If he had the time, and the motivation, he’d do it as well. Perhaps. Most likely. Betrayal never sat well with Tony and what the Avengers had done? It was perfidy, nothing less than that. And they had gotten _away with it._ At first because Tony had to recover from Siberia, had focused on his Platypus to give him something so he could walk again. The kid –

Everything had been more important than getting revenge, get his hands wrapped around a neck to snap it. His lawyers were waiting for his call, to tear Rogers and Co. apart in the air with nothing more than a few smiles, a ruthless speech and done. The party would have been over before it started but –

 _Perhaps he’d grown soft._ He regretted it when he saw his mom’s eyes bulging in pain at night, the silent videotape in his dreams suddenly full of sound and terror, steel glinting in the night without mercy. His sleep hadn’t been quiet in a long while, his bed having grown cold without him in there. He only started sleeping in there again after –

Well, Barton’s body had been _gifted to him._ As strange as it was, it had soothed Tony’s own fantasies of revenge immensely and shooed nightmares from his mind. Almost like a protective shield, the blood on the floor, the cut open throat; a sacrifice to whoever would let him sleep for once.

Loki’s _glee_ as he dumped Wanda on his floor. The stink of iron in the air, the heavy satisfaction and smugness which spread in Tony quicker than a Trojan ever could. The knowledge that the kills had been _for him,_ unprompted –

Only because Loki thought this would please Tony. _Fuck, it did._ He might be Iron Man but deep down, he was a human and his _mother had been killed. His friend_ lied about it in his face for _years_ but –

But dared – was impudent enough call him _a liar,_ all the other accusations thrown at his head like it was child’s play. Feet rooted to the ground, the _Avengers_ behind him, all but Bruce –

He still had the green bow Loki had gifted to him _specially_. It sat on his desk in the workshop, looking green and fabulous. _Soft,_ under the tips of his fingers, giving in to his touch nicely.

Had he ever thought about Loki since the invasion? A few times, yes. After Thor declared him dead though – Tony lived on. He hadn’t known Loki. He still _didn’t._ But he was a man who went after what pleased him; Loki was gorgeous and easy on the eyes. What did it matter if he called out a darker side of Tony? It wasn’t as if Rogers was going to judge him. Not, when everything went as it seemed to. Because then he’d be dead and Tony free of him; his mom revenged and Tony free to sleep again.

Maybe not even alone.

It hadn’t taken him long to come to this conclusion, had it? He licked his lips, reached for the ribbon, looked at it thoughtfully. It might be that it was on his side to take the step forward and let Loki know he was open to being _courted._ To flirt with him, get the drink that had been promised a while ago and chat about how life was. Cruel, Tony was sure of that.

A note appeared on the ribbon.

> _Stand back._

His brow shot up, then he stepped back. Not a moment too late as it turned out, as Loki appeared.

“Good evening, Anthony.”

“Loki.” He nodded at him, eyes searching the Trickster’s face for something. There was no blood, no blemishes either. He looked _pure_ – as pure as one could be if you were the god of mischief and chaos, of course. “Nice to see you.”

Loki’s eyes widened slightly as he realised that Tony was _not_ lying. A smile, thin and fleeting before it was gone again. “You’re not lying.”

“I don’t like lies.”

“Who does.”

“I like the finality in that statement.” Tony chuckled softly, twirling the green ribbon in his hand. “Would you join me for a drink, Loki?”

“Do you wish to have your gift first or after?”

“Is it heavy?”

“It is.” Loki made a quick movement with his hand, and a box appeared to his feet. “Enjoy.”

Tony walked forward. Loki’s green eyes were pulling him in, twinkling with mischief and another hunger lurking in them. Tony knew that hunger well. He stood so close to Loki – heard him softly inhaling, felt the hand twitch near his thigh more than he saw. Craning his neck up to see Loki better, he stepped just a little bit closer again. Watched as Loki’s eyes widened, took another breath, soft – almost _too soft_ to hear –

Without looking down, Tony reached for Loki’s hand. It wasn’t too warm, the perfect temperature to have and hold hands with. An imagine of them both strolling through Central Park popped up in Tony’s head. Hand in hand, ice-cream in their hands, sunglasses on and the sun was shining. A few paparazzi who tried to get good pictures of them but they wouldn’t _get the shot right_ , never. They’d stop eventually, perhaps under the branches of a tree and kiss, taste the ice-cream on each other’s mouths –

Loki pinched him.

“I’d rather have your focus on me.”

“Oh, you have, don’t worry.” Tony shook his head, snorting. “How do you feel about ice-cream?”

“Certainly one of Midgard’s best desserts.”

“What’s the best?”

A wink, the throb of the pinch left. “ _You._ ”

“You charmer.” Tony didn’t bother keeping the smile in. “You are handsome, bring me _exactly_ what I want, flirt with me and like ice-cream.” He touched the lid of the box. “What more could one want in a lover?”

The sharp inhale was _not_ something Tony would leave unanswered. “That’s what you want after all, correct?”

“That. _And more.”_

“You can have more.” Tony opened the lid. “Since I think that you won’t betray me as they did.” It was then, that he looked inside the box. Barnes’ lifeless face stared up at him in silent horror. Pale as a sheet, the neck purple and blue, swollen.

“I thought it would be appropriate,” Loki quietly offered.

“It’s perfect.” Tony admired the sight a moment longer, only to drop the lid and slung an arm around Loki. _“Thank you,”_ he whispered, his lips ghosting over the shell of Loki’s ear, before he pressed a kiss to his cheek. Short, _tender –_

Hands gripped him around the waist, pulled him in –

“I’ve watched you, Anthony Stark-“

“Enjoyed the show?”

“ _No.”_ Loki’s voice turned cold, angry. “I see Thor, who gets off, again, for doing things his comrade in arms gets brutally reprimanded for. A team that fails at the simplest tasks, perfidy among those who are clamoured to be the honest and loyal ones –“

“ _Liars,_ all of them –“

“And then there’s you,” Loki breathed, his hand resting heavily on Tony’s nape. “The scapegoat, the brain behind every operation. You know that there’s more outside, you _think, you create_ –“

Choirs were singing in Tony’s ear, sweet and alluring. If Loki was here to kill him – which was as unlikely as it could be – Tony wouldn’t mind. Not, when it seemed that there _finally_ was someone who _understood,_ who felt the pain and could relate. _Who didn’t judge –_

“Someone tipped me off,” Loki’s voice was so close to him, a rumble Tony felt against his chest. “This was also half an apology to you, Anthony-“

“It is?”

“Yes.” Fingers carded through his hair. “She knows her end is inevitable. But she won’t be –“

“Natasha.” A quiet laugh.

“Indeed.”

Was he going to forgive? No. But Tony appreciated the gesture. _And isn’t it nice, Rogers, when the people you think you can trust, stab you in the back and take your loved ones form you?_

**5.**

They freaking hadn’t _kissed._ Like teenagers too awkward to go for it, they’d stood there, foreheads resting against each other, smiled like the biggest sap in business. Shared a drink, a gentle reprimand of Loki that he won’t be responsible for ruining this because they were _too hasty._ They talked instead, sipping occasionally on their drinks.

It felt like a date – a bit bloodier one than they were usually but _hey –_

Tony had had worse ones before. Loki was witty, his smile as dark as it could be bright, and the way he refused to have Tony show him his bedroom – because he didn’t want to _ruin them –_

The consideration. If it were under other circumstances, Tony would say _I can decide that for myself_. But, here, he got Loki, saw him _trying_ to win him over – and he was succeeding at a dangerous speed. Tony loved it. His mind was racing as he flew to the location Loki had sent him.

By no means was he surprised that the fight for Natasha would go as simple as the ones with the others. She was _special._ The trick she’d played on Loki what felt like aeons ago, the dagger in the back from her, the apology –

Yes, she deserved something more than to be a corpse, dropped at Tony’s feet.

He saw them fighting on his display. Rogers wasn’t anywhere in sight. Most likely Natasha had gotten rid of him before she’d let Loki find her. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to know that she was the next on the list. And either she died – or she lived long enough to run away, to hide from Loki’s searching eyes. Perhaps the first option was more benevolent. One couldn’t hide _forever_. Not even the Black Widow.

Not, when Iron Man would be on her trails, and Loki.

He stopped above them, FRIDAY zoomed in on the happening.

Natasha wasn’t done yet – fighting with everything she’d left, blood smeared over her face, the red dark against her blonde hair and the Batons crackling with blue electricity. She rolled to the side when Loki threw a dagger after her, blocked the next one –

Went over into the offence, the weapon going straight for Loki’s jugular. Tony smelled burned flesh, _chicken,_ his mind told him. _Burger King –_

Loki was going in, his knife dancing. A glint of silver in the darkening day, a scream in anger and pain.

They fought more. Kicks, a slap, knives getting lost. And yet, despite how well Natasha held her own – not even _once_ did Loki’s smile flicker. He was the one who played with the mouse – and Natasha only fought out of her pride not to go down that easily.

But eventually, she went in for a trap – her baton went straight for Loki’s groin, the other went up in a sinful arc, aiming for his jugular –

Loki stepped aside, blocked the batons easily with his vambraces and –

Natasha was sailing through the air.

For a moment, green eyes met his. Wide, open, full of horror but also –

There was a hint of acceptance and perhaps –

She landed on her skull.

The clearing was quiet as Tony landed and stepped out of his suit, shivering only lightly in his thin outfit. Loki stood only a few feet away, already hunched over Natasha’s body, checking for a pulse. _There was none._ To no one’s surprise but Tony guessed, that was simply a thing one did because of formality.

“She fought well.” Loki closed her eyes with a gentle touch before he straightened his back.

Blood was drenching the ground. He felt its warmth pooling around his feet, sticky. As if he was treading through water, the little wet slurping sounds and _that was a lot of blood._ Perhaps it was more than usual simply because Loki knew something Tony _didn’t –_

Or wasn’t ready yet to admit, to accept because –

“You fought better,” Tony said. He reached for Loki’s arms, eased the grip around his knives. The hands felt sweaty, and –

_It was them Loki fought with._

Tony bit on his lips as implications hit home, once again. His heart started to thunder in his chest, painfully loud and strong against his ribcage. It felt as if it was trying to beat its way free and if Tony wasn’t going to pay attention, he’d know _exactly_ where it would land.

Loki stood like he’d been raised to do: strong, shoulders drawn back, back straight and only the hint of a smirk on his lips as he stared down at Tony with pride. Satisfaction. _Triumph._

All that was left Tony to do was to get on his toes, press his lips to Loki’s. His hands clutched the leather tight, the gold cold under his palms where the edges cut into him. He pressed closer, lured Loki out into playing with him, _rewarded_ him for his fighting skills.

It felt like falling down a deep pit.

It was running up its walls with nothing more than his bare hands but that didn’t stop him.

He tasted iron in the air, kissed the burned patch on Loki’s throat that was already healing and left his own mark there instead.

_Going slow, my ass._

“I have a surprise for you planned,” Loki told him. “The next gift will be the last one.”

“And then?”

“Then,” Loki’s voice dropped to a whisper, “they and _you,_ will all see, don’t you?”

**+1.**

They left Rogers to stew in his own juice, knowing the Damocles’ sword was hanging above his head. There was no escape. Death was inevitable, as one said. As fear was cooking up in the other, Tony floated on a cloud of sunshine. Loki stayed around him longer, his touches tender as he ran his hands over Tony’s back, his lips a sin of their own when they kissed, his words a symphony, pulling Tony deeper and deeper. Higher as well.

He didn’t ask why Loki was alive – the Trickster would tell him soon enough on his own, he was sure of that. What mattered was that Loki was here on Earth, hunting vigilantes _for him_. Not on Asgard’s golden throne. Choosing Tony above _power_ –

If that wasn’t an ego trip, then Tony didn’t know either.

The ribbon on his desk glowed up. A note appeared on it and after reading it through, Tony got into a suit, then thought of Loki _and_ Rogers as ordered. He was dragged forward, his stomach felt _unsettled_ and his senses were screaming – not in delight.

Yet, he stood like a one as the journey ended; his feet on the ground, his chin high and only a faint taste of vomit on his tongue. Tony Stark would not be seen as one who vomited because of magic travels. Maybe everyone else – _but not him._

His breath stopped for a moment as he saw who stood on the other side of the bunker and _fuck –_

He knew this bunker.

“Here we are again,” he said into the tense silence. Loki wasn’t here – or not visible. It was only him and Rogers. His voice sounded metallic through the helmet. He didn’t care to make it sound _less distorted,_ not when Rogers’ eyes widened, the white almost dramatic in the darkness.

“Stark.”

“Nomad.” He scanned their surroundings, FRIDAY running a quick analysis of it. Nothing had changed. “You can give up and hand yourself over to the UN. Or –“

“You need to be stopped.” Rogers sounded tired.

“ _Me?”_ Tony flipped the visor up. “I’m sorry I don’t recall me opposing the UN and running away from the consequences.”

“You have the blood the Avengers’ on your hands.”

“Which Avengers are you talking about?” Tony chuckled. “As far as I know are the Avengers training at the mansion as they should. You are no Avenger anymore, _Nomad._ You are a vigilante, on the run from the governments and think you’re doing the right thing.”

“You’re not even denying their deaths.”

“Why should I? They’re dead. It was always going to end up like that. Either with you dead or in jail.” Tony shook his head. “There is no happy ending for any of you.”

“But for you?”

Tony gave him a wink before the visor clapped back down. “What’s your decision?”

It was _not_ the right one, as far as Tony was concerned. Or maybe it was, as he ducked to avoid Rogers’s kick. _This was his second chance._

_His vengeance._

The suit whirred to life around him, coldness settled in Tony’s limbs. His mind turned sharp as he started to rely on his instincts, on FRIDAY’s voice.

This was no longer a fight or flight situation.

Rogers’ shield scratched over the suit’s alloy; the sound _too high, too sharp_ –

Cringing away at the noise before Rogers’ fist was coming close again. Adrenaline was racing through Tony. Sharp, quick. He scanned the information on the HUD. Numbers were flying in blue over it, a red circle targeting Rogers –

Without further hesitance, avoiding Rogers’ punches any longer, Tony went into the fight. He hadn’t gotten to do this for a while now, hidden away in the mansion as he was. Observing the Rogues from afar, an eye on the kid.

Waiting for Loki.

Rogers punched again, a kick aiming for his face. Tony ducked away, an arm flew up, blocking. The sound of bones made of steel, or _vibranium_ considering how much Howard seemed to love that material, hitting against hard metal – a symphony to his ears. He felt the beginning of a smile tug on his mouth, tenderly almost to a viewer. However for Tony, it wasn’t vital. He breathed out, Rogers’ foot lowered.

There was a snarky remark on his lips. Had it been anyone else, perhaps Tony would consider releasing it, banter with the villain for a bit. He liked interacting. It got information out of the other, made them _weak_ , pliable to open a monologue Tony oh so loved to destroy with even more witty remarks.

He’d only offered a drink _once –_

He hadn’t regretted it so far.

His own fist hit Rogers’ in the shoulder, as he ducked away.

_No!_

This was _justice_. Wasn’t Steven Grant Rogers all about justice, equality, and standing up for the small man? Then _why_ was he still _fighting?_ Not that Tony really was complaining _that much_. He loved it, fighting. Always had, eternally loved seeing the blood flow freely, the sharp tang of iron in the air. He was _Iron Man_ in more way than one.

He thrust up in the air, knowing he didn’t have too much way up before he plummeted down like a stone and oh –

His limbs would ache, his knee joints _break_ but as he landed with so much force on Roger’s foot that it _broke –_

_Worth it._

He heard the sound of his own laughter echoing in the helmet, heard it over Rogers’ yell. Had there ever anything better than relishing in the sweet sound of agony, of _pain?_ The breaking sound –

Sometimes Tony thought he knew how the sound when Barnes snapped his mom’s neck intimately. Sharp, but at the same time, long. The choking noises, the gurgling in the back of her mind, the fingers – cold and harsh, winter –

FRIDAY told him quietly they weren’t alone anymore, that they had gotten a visitor. It felt _green_ , fresh –

Tony breathed in, ducked.

Jumped back.

Swung a fist.

Perhaps he could use his weapons installed in his suit.

But this matter was too _personal_ as to use the flamethrower, the guns, the auto-targeting bombs he had installed on his gauntlets, the rockets in his shoulders. This mark, this suit –

It was specially designed to take someone out who was considerably stronger than Tony was. Nevertheless, the thought of using a weapon _other_ than the suit on Rogers was – wrong.

_Personal._

He thought of a green ribbon sitting on his bed.

A smirk, sly and a hint of teeth, a teasing kiss that spoke of more to follow in the future. The sincerity behind Loki’s actions –

This was _more_ than he deserved. No.

This was _what_ he deserved to do.

Blood was flowing over his gauntlet, sullying the glowing blue light with disgusting red and yet –

His breath got quicker and he wanted to laugh, felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. A soothing sound in the back of his mind as he continued to go on. Hand, balled to a fist. Crashing sounds. Pain. Ducking away, turning left. The suit, his body, one.

Bitterness – _why this –_ walled up in Tony as Rogers refused to go down, even when his face didn’t look like a face anymore, too much blood, the nose –

Not straight and pretty anymore.

_Poster boy is gone._

Grim satisfaction. However, it wasn’t enough, it still _wasn’t –_

 _His mom’s death still not revenged._ And the blood in his ears rushed as Rogers finally started to slow down, his movements getting sluggish.

He was getting there. There was no measurement of time for how long this had been going on already. Only fight, punches, _more and more and –_

“Anthony.”

_Why was Loki –_

Loki raised his arms yet did not step back. He tilted his head. “Don’t you think he’s destroyed enough?”

Tony blinked. Shook his head. Took a moment to realise the surroundings he was in and –

Rogers was no more. The man laid on the floor, bleeding, limbs appeared to be fractured, and a few stretched into the most curious angles and an eye was twitching on the ground.

_Oh._

“Anthony.” Loki’s voice was tethered to him, calling him back from where it was going. The mask was lifted from him, without any further problems and Loki ran his fingers over Tony’s face. The touch was gentle. Soft.

It was –

“You’re finished,” Loki told him quietly but no less _Loki_ and Tony didn’t know what to make out of it. It sounded as if Loki was proud of him, praised him even and he wanted to curl up in that praise, soak it up until he was nothing more than a warm and happy puddle of bliss.

“They’re gone.”

And wasn’t that just the truth?

Tony took the helmet of himself, heavy as it was, let it crash to the ground next to him. He grasped Loki at the lapels of his suit, panted, the scent of iron hung above them like clouds full of rain that were going to release at any given moment yet.

The material felt warm under his fingers, Loki’s fingers settled on his nape and they were gloriously cold. His eyes closed without his consent, and there were lips on his, thin and cold, the tongue warm.

Nothing was going to be as it was when they left the bunker, Tony knew that. He was a changed man and at the same time, he wasn’t. _This_ was what he had been, what slumbered deep inside of him for years, thirsting for revenge when he got blamed for creating a murder bot, when Ultron tried to take over, pointed at with an accusing finger like he was the only one who had been involved in the process. When Ultron almost destroyed them all but Vision – and _he_ had to sacrifice his JARVIS for that – came to their rescue and no one –

No one thought of apologising to Tony or telling him that his idea had been a good one. Instead they parted ways, not wishing any longer to be associated with someone who could pull them all into ruin –

And see where it had gotten them.

Tony was the one who stood in blood, covered in it too as he kissed Loki, as he felt the one person close to him that listened to him as he lived and breathed and had to conquer the new day. The one person who knew how the inner side of Tony Stark worked and what it craved; what was lurking deep inside, what _potential –_

They hadn’t realised what he was capable of. The person they had met had been tame, a _tamed Tony Stark_ which was in retrospect laughable and he stepped closer to Loki that not even a mere inch would fit between them.

All separation and distance that was possible was _too much_ and nothing Tony wanted –

“Do you want to go home?” Loki asked him.

And the sound was so sweet yet –

Tony shook his head and thrust gently forward because who knew how gods liked alloy suits against their crotch – but from what he saw, Loki liked it just fine and –

The words that fell from Loki’s mouth sounded like dirty praise and Tony crooned on the inside, the suit melting away and he was left in undersuit. The air was cold, rushed up to meet him from all sides and Loki quickly waved with his hand and Tony felt warmth cosying up to him.

He sighed in contentment, kissed Loki again, sucked on his tongue and his hands started to roam –

 _He’d done it._ And it was thanks to Loki, just because of him this –

It came as a surprise to him when Loki let him shrug off the suit, the leather hitting the bloodied ground and nibbled on pale skin, sucked hard until he heard a quiet moan. Almost too soft yet and –

Loki let himself be directed willingly, responded with as much fevered eagerness as Tony, if not more so. His hands were gripping onto Tony’s shoulders, nails digging in way too deep, left marks behind that were going to bleed as well.

 _Fitting_. He kissed his way over to the other side of the neck, left marks of his own, buried his teeth when Loki seemed to get away with closing his eyes and –

 _Soft was not what Tony had in mind._ His body was still running on the adrenaline rush, the dark satisfaction pooling in the pit of his belly and the need to show Loki that he was _happy_ or something along those lines. Nonsense left his mouth, but Loki only lifted his hips, let Tony drag his leather trousers down as far as possible before his butt cheeks touched the other leather garnet as not to be _that_ deep in blood.

How was it possible that there was so much of it? The quantity did not make sense at all, but the _smell –_

He made a pleased sound, almost a mewl if one could call it that before he nipped on Loki’s hips. His lips wandering down the small dip, going further south. He heard the soft pleased sounds that came from Loki, put them away for a later check through again, because good sex deserved to be remembered and –

This was going to be more than just _good,_ he could feel it. His skin was prickling, everything felt warm and Loki shot him a grin that was a dare – just the existence of it. And why would he not give Loki the blowjob he deserved and him the treat that he was owed after all this exhausting work? Time didn’t apply, not yet –

Only when they would step through the door, face reality and would have to come up with an excuse as to why Rogers looked so unrecognisable and –

“You’re bleeding,” Loki rasped, sitting up in a fluid movement. His fingers touched Tony’s forehead, gently swiped over it before he looked at his finger, dipped in red as it now was. His eyes held Tony’s in ban as he wrapped his lips around it, pale pink on a deep red, a hint of tongue and –

Was there anything more arousing than this? Tony doubted it, his mind going blank as all he saw was Loki, sucking his blood off, enjoying each drop he could get. No, Tony _doubted_ there was anything better than that and he caught Loki’s lips with his. Tasted his own blood on Loki’s tongue as he felt himself respond eagerly and kissed the amused chuckle away, turning soon into a moan.

_Perfection had a name and a bitter taste._

He closed his hand around Loki’s dick, stroking him and didn’t wonder about where the slickness came from. More important things were happening, like the way Loki clutched him to his chest, his touch possessive with how heavy Loki’s arm was around him – pulled him in and closer, while his other hand stroked Tony’s dick. And Loki’s fingers were _good_ at what they did. Quick but not too much so, the pressure almost too much but Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

Frostiness was touching his back, a tenderness only paralleled by what he saw reflecting in the deep green pools but when Tony took a second, he realised it was snow, gently falling, a dream in white on red.

The lube was slowly starting to dry but – Tony breathed a moan as he saw _what_ Loki was using on his dick, red and dark –

 _This was in no way sanitary._ But that didn’t matter, not when all it did was to feel Tony even more aroused, when he already felt like he was dying from the tension, the sharp cuts from Loki’s fingernails and –

He couldn’t stop watching, endlessly fascinated and Loki chuckled, rough and his fingers rubbed over his head, mixing the white pre-cum with the dark red. A piece of art and Tony eventually had enough. He felt like he was going to burst here on the spot and Loki only raised an eyebrow but followed the shove, laying down on the coat –

“Daring, my Avenger.”

Loki’s thighs fell open easily, the action not true to his words.

“Would you have me otherwise?” The question was meant in jest, yet Tony found himself staring at Loki intently.

“No.” Loki looked at him as if he was prey. Gauging if it would have more advantage to devour him now, his blood joining Rogers’ than keeping him around now. The insult, it hit Tony to the bone, anger crawling up inside of him. This was not going to be done, not for as long as he was _here –_

He bit Loki in the thigh, not all to gently, shoving a finger inside of him. Spread the blood, making sure he was slick enough and Loki’s pained moan, sweet and dark in his ears. _He was done with being insulted –_

Rogers was proof of that, the whole band of Rogues – their deaths all testimony to him changing, growing a backbone once more –

Loki would _not_ be allowed to shove him back into one of those small drawers to tame Tony Stark. _Nobody was –_

He thrust inside, not _caring_ – only a little – but Loki slung his legs around him, pulled him in ruthlessly.

“Show me that I haven’t erred in my assessment,” Loki told him, a growl in his voice.

“Didn’t you want to _court me_?” Tony tried to fit as much mockery in his voice as he could yet – he shivered as more snow started to fall, Loki tight and warm around him. “Show me that I’m worth more than _them?”_

“But did you _understand?_ ” Loki hissed back.

In answer, Tony crashed his lips to Loki’s, claimed the coldness as his own. Started to thrust his hips into Loki’s, nails ripping into his shoulders before soothing the pain away. The leather was almost too slippery beneath his knees as he started to thrust with more force. It slipped away on the blood, Loki’s movements, Tony’s own force –

And he laughed, breathlessly as he saw the amused curl on Loki’s lips; realised that it was _planned_ and Loki a slippery bastard. His heart started to speed up at the thought, thundering loudly against his ribcage and he wove his fingers together with Loki’s. It felt tender, too _soft_ for what they were doing here. But – it felt so right, and Loki sucking on his neck felt _very nice –_

Tony moaned into the air, his hands clenching almost rhythmically around Loki’s slender fingers.

“Maybe I wasn’t _wrong,”_ Loki panted into his ear. He freed a hand, Tony almost paid it no mind then – he felt Loki’s _wet_ hand on his back. The palm pressed against his cheeks, wetness dribbling from them in slow motion, running down Tony’s thigh. Cold, yet – Tony shivered, stopped in his thrusting and Loki looked at him in bemusement, his hands wandering down –

Tony _knew_ what this way, there was only one thing it could be. Perhaps he should have been disgusted upon realising that Loki was smearing Rogers’ blood all over him, where he had gotten rid in haste of his undersuit. Bared himself to the cold air, greeted the falling snowflakes with open mind as he’d prepared Loki in haste yet –

He shivered, heat engulfing him as –

“His blood is _yours,_ Anthony,” Loki told him softly. There was a fire in his eyes Tony couldn’t bear to look away from, leaning forward, slippery hands falling further down. They settled on his thighs, the grip not one that went unnoticed and Tony leant forward, his lips melting with Loki’s and stroked his tongue with his. Automatically his hips started to thrust again, gotten over the shock, and –

Loki didn’t taste of blood, he realised.

Instead, he tasted of something new.

This was what Tony had been searching for. The promise of something new where he was _not_ the bogey-man for once, where instead he would be treated as an equal and –

Loki clenched deliciously around him, white cum splattering on Loki and partially on Tony. It was with a last moan and a shiver of cold and too much of _everything_ , Tony let go of the tension, everything uncoiling and he felt like falling, darkness dancing in front of his eyes like a bait, too tempting as not to give in –

Yet, the cold on his back brought him back and he breathed in.

Loki’s hair was fanned out around like a halo of darkness and Tony buried a shaking hand in it, before he pulled Loki – _or did Loki pull him in?_ – in for a kiss.

The most astonishing thing about this was that Tony didn’t feel an ounce of fear when he would walk out of this door. Not anymore, not when he finally felt like he had found himself again. No longer timid, afraid, or small.

He was Tony Stark, and people had better start to think again about whether they could put the blame for everything on his shoulders.


End file.
